


Road trip with Scotty

by Fogfire



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogfire/pseuds/Fogfire





	Road trip with Scotty

_The arctic road, Norway_

Shore leave stretches out in front of you just like the dark road in front of the trailer you’re sitting in.

When the last houses fade into the darkness behind you, you curb down the window and taste the night air.

“You can go back and sleep,” Montgomery offers from behind the steering wheel.

“How long are you planning to drive?” You ask, pulling the window up again and turning to him. You can barely make out his face in the darkness, but after having spent five years on the same starship and another thirteen hours on a flight from San Francisco to Stavanger you know his features well enough to know he’s scrunching up his nose in concentration now as he contemplates.

“Should take us about an hour to that place we wanted to stay for the night.”

“You could just pull over at the next stop and come to bed with me,” you offer and realize the double meaning of your words only when he chokes in surprise.

“I didn’t mean like that,” you clarify and you feel his hand touching your arm immediately afterward.

“I know,” he assures you, despite his voice sounding the tiniest bit strained, “I know. I’m gonna pull over at the next rest area.”

You both fall silent after that. It’s a comfortable silence and one of the reasons the two of you are so close is the fact that you are able to be alone together, lost in your own minds from time to time.

After almost five years of friendship, you’ve just recently started dating, easing yourself into being more, a couple, lovers essentially.

You’ve started calling him Montgomery instead of Scotty and even though you had secretly doubted it at first, calling him by his first name instead of a nickname had left you feeling even closer to him. He had started to hold your hand whenever you two had to walk into the same direction or entangling your fingers when you sat down to eat in mess hall. And instead of just pulling the other in for a quick hug when you had to leave for your work or the night, you pressed the shortest kisses on each other’s mouth, cheeks, and nose.

And now you’d go on vacation together. A trailer road trip through Norway, bringing back memories from all the times you had done this as a child with your parents. You had told Montgomery of the summers spent like that, of the countries you had visited.

“Let’s do this, then,” he had offered, “Let’s discover a country together. Name one you haven’t been too yet.”

“Scotland,” you told him immediately, “I mean, we went to Ireland when I was seven and I have been to South England two times, but I’ve never been to Scotland before.”

“Well, I think I’m a bit biased in this, but Scotland is a great country. But I’d just be me showing ye around, trying not to sound like an arrogan’ prick.”

You had thrown around other ideas then, not fully satisfied with any choice until you stumbled across a picture of the Pulpit Rock.

“Norway,” you had told him, “I promise you it will be great.”

_Pulpit Rock_

It’s still dark when you wake up, Montgomery snoring faintly beside you.

You step out of the trailer and look up at the stars that are already fading, looking for the morning star whose light is still bright enough to guide you, before planning your route with a flashlight and an old-fashioned paper map.

Montgomery does not wake the whole time you’re driving, you can hear him snoring just a few steps behind you. The rhythm of it makes you forget time and you reach the Lysefjord faster than you thought.

The sun has started to rise while you drove, bathing the fjord in soft light. The mountains rise on both sides of the fjord-like thick stone walls and you feel safe and shielded down here on the green fields just shy of the waterfront.

You stop the car and walk back to make coffee, waiting for the sound of the boiling water and the smell to wake up Montgomery.

“What time is it?” He asks with a gravelly voice, stepping up to you with a messy bedhead, slinging his arms around you and pressing his face into your shoulder instead of taking the cup of coffee you had held out for him.

“Breakfast time,” you tell him, “And we got the Lysenfjord as a stunning scenery.”

“The Lysenfjord?” He asks, pulling back one arm to take the coffee from you. He takes a sip, savoring the strong drink that’s obviously helping him to gather his thoughts.

“Didnnae we stop for the night a bit after Stavanger?”

“We did, but I couldn’t sleep. Come on out and see.”

“Do I have to dress for tha’?” He asks, not waiting for an answer but slipping on shoes and stepping out into the clean morning, pulling you with him by your hand.

_The Lysenfjord_

By the time you’ve finished eating the sun has warmed up the air.

“The water will be cold,” you think out loud and he grins at you.

“When has tha’ ever stopped ye?”

“You’re right,” you nod, “Are you coming with me?”

“If I ever decline takin’ a bath with ye, please inform med-bay that I must have a serious disease,” he tells you with a wink.

You slip out of your clothes a few minutes later, looking over to Montgomery pulling off his shirt just a few steps away from you.

Your heart beats in your chest when you reach your hand out behind you, opening the clasp of your bra.

When Montgomery turns around there’s nothing more but a heap of clothes on the floor where you had stood, your bra right on top. He turns towards the water where you’re just resurfacing.

“It’s cold!” You tell him, “Come in!”

You start to swim to warm up, circling around the same spot to give him the time and privacy he might need.

But then he’s right there with you, wet hair sticking to his temple, drops of water running down his face.

“It’s cold!” He tells you and you laugh and let him pull you towards him, not thinking of anything else but the fact that he’s here with you, in this moment, this magnificent place.

You’ve never felt more alive than you do right now and you put your arms around him and kiss him, pouring everything you feel right into it.

Three weeks later you sit outside the trailer. You’ve parked half an hour from a city called Trollvik. Up here in the arctic circle, you’ve taken up the habit of sitting outside in the midnight sun, bundled up in blankets, sipping the tea Montgomery has made.

“We should stay here,” you tell him, leaning into him, enjoying the warmth of his body under the blanket, “At least the Arctic summer is over.”

“And what would we do then?”

“Drive back to the places and make more memories. Kiss you again at Pulpit Rock.”

“I don’t think skinny-dipping will be a good idea when it turns autumn.”

“Mmh,” you agree, “That’s right. But we can come back when it’s summer again.”

“We can,” he presses his face into your neck, pressing one, two, three kisses onto the soft skin there, “But right now I’m looking forward to everything else.”

“Tell me.”

“We can get shared quarters when we get back,” he tells you, the knuckles of his right hand rubbing circles into the skin of your tights, “I’d like to keep up our morning routine, too.”

“Yeah,” you smile and wiggle a bit closer to him, “I’d like that too.”

_The midnight sun_

 


End file.
